Chapter 102 Waaaagh
“Being a Greenskin is so much fun! Just wish my parents weren’t so green, and that I could be a Greenskin in my next life!”
Columbus, or Arcanius, rode atop his mount Skugg, singing loudly.
Skugg, which literally means “Bouncer,” is a monster that can open its mouth wide enough to swallow its own body, with two short little legs, resembling a meatball that has sprouted a pair of little legs. It bounces as it runs, and the rider must grasp the sparse hairs on its back to maintain a fragile balance amidst its jolting movements.
Interestingly, much like a middle-aged balding man, Skugg is very particular about its limited hair. If its hair is pulled, it jumps up and down violently, opening its wide, gaping mouth to bite.
Even more interestingly, when Skugg chases after something to bite, it becomes increasingly furious.
Currently, the Skugg beneath Arcanius is possibly in the most furious state of its life. It chases a large group of goblins and little Greenskins, who are crying for their parents and running desperately forward.
“Wang Wang!”
Bouncer roared as it dove from the air, opening its mouth and biting down on a goblin’s upper half, swinging it left and right before tossing it into the group of Greenskins ahead, causing a few to topple over. They quickly scrambled to get up and flee on all fours.
Arcanius laughed heartily, banging his staff, which had a large orc shaman impaled upon it, against Bouncer’s rear. Bouncer grew furious, causing the Greenskins to run even faster.
“Stop! Stop! You’re running even faster now.”
A large primitive Greenskin, riding a war pig adorned with red triangular battle markings, rushed over to Arcanius and shouted, “The boss told me to tell you to wait a moment. The boss is quite pleased with your forced march, chasing after those little goblin runt… they’re running really fast!”
Indeed, Arcanius was carrying out the orders of the Greenskin warlord for a forced march. It is well-known that goblins are inherently timid and not very interested in battle, dragging their feet when it comes to conflict. Thus, Arcanius had no hesitation in riding Bouncer to hunt them down, achieving spectacular results, with at least sixty goblin corpses littering the path.
“How can we stop? We need to hurry up and clash with those Imperials!” Arcanius yelled at the primitive Greenskin. “Let’s clash! Clash!”
“Too many mushrooms.”
The massive primitive Greenskin, coated in white battle markings, ignored the seemingly mad goblin shaman.
With a slap to his pig’s rear, he turned and left.
“Then let’s stop,” Arcanius swung his bone staff and struck Bouncer on the head, shouting, “You bouncy, gluttonous thing, spit out what you have in your mouth!”
Bouncer opened its mouth and spat out a goblin’s arm. After a fit of frenzy, Bouncer began to feel tired, pausing to squat beside the road and yawning widely.
Seeing Bouncer finally calm down, the Greenskins couldn’t wait to sit down and rest. A few injured were lying on the ground, deep gashes on their rear but didn’t see it as a big deal; if a human had such wounds, they’d immediately be incapable of fighting.
Greenskins are truly resilient.
Arcanius jumped down from Bouncer and approached his command of about two thousand Greenskins, who were sitting on the ground, panting with exhaustion but still making a ruckus. The orc boys took out their frustrations on smaller goblins, who in turn sought out even smaller goblins to vent their anger on.
In Arcanius’s view, the entire troop was lively and full of energy.
He climbed onto a large rock, surveying the group, and smiled broadly, “Do you blame me?”
The troop quieted down, and two orc boys who had been brawling paused to look at Arcanius.
Suddenly, a silly voice piped up:
“I don’t blame you.”
Arcanius looked down to see a simple-minded orc scratching the back of his head, saying:
“I think a bunch of snot-green cowards hide in the back during fights, scared stiff by any pointy bits they see.” The silly greenskin continued, “If we can’t run fast, we won’t be able to clash with the Imperials.”
“And you are the strongest, we all listen to you.”
“I feel the same.”
“That’s right.”
The Greenskins chimed in, a group of goblins circling Arcanius’s stone, chanting, “Boss, boss, our little boss.”
Arcanius felt a swell of emotion.
Looking at these Greenskins, how pure and fun they are. He never would have thought that he could ride Bouncer and chase people to bite them, just to encourage them to march.
But the Greenskins allowed him to experience “Greenskin-style forced march,” and he was quite grateful. Only a simple-minded race that only wants to fight and risk their lives could do this. If it were humans? Their morale would have dropped significantly, leading to possible mutiny.
Humans are truly delicate.
Tears welled up in Arcanius’s eyes as he said:
“Thank you, thank you, I’m taking you to have a fierce clash… Also, I chased you on Bouncer simply because it’s fun, but you really do run fast. Next time I’ll ask the beast boss for a dozen wolves to chase after you, how does that sound?”
Just moments ago lively Greenskins fell silent, staring in shock at the small goblin shaman on the rock. The goblins that were dancing around Arcanius also froze in place, lowering their raised spears.
A sudden silence enveloped the two thousand orcs, something exceedingly rare in an orc army. Even the disciplined black orcs could rarely achieve such quietude.
Suddenly, from behind Arcanius, two sneaky goblins leaped out from a cluster of brown rocks, brandishing poisoned daggers and aiming at Arcanius’s neck.
Arcanius reacted faster, finding that he was holding a shadow blade and a scimitar, stabbing backward and accurately piercing the hearts of both goblins. With a shake, he tossed the slack bodies down.
Glancing down, he realized these weren’t ordinary goblins; they were dressed in black cloaks with hoods adorned with a grinning crescent moon.
Arcanius recalled they were called Night Goblins, worshippers of the Evil Moon. It was said they could become semi-invisible, even on the battlefield, a hundred-man squad could seem to appear and disappear at will.
Arcanius severed their heads and asked, “Who agrees, who disagrees?”
The goblins broke the silence: “Columbus is my forever boss!”
“Boss!”
“Boss!”
“Boss!”
The Greenskins shouted in unison.
Arcanius felt his eyes dampen again. The political struggle among Greenskins is so uncomplicated; you only need to prove yourself the strongest and you’ll undoubtedly gain the compliance of the other Greenskins. Unlike humans? Especially in the Empire, he had seen how the Emperor engaged in political maneuvering, the complexity and trouble of which made Arcanius’s scalp tingle.
Only a simple race can have a simple political struggle.
Arcanius shouted, “I am taking you to fight the Empire!”
The cheers from below grew even louder, a wave building higher and higher.
At that moment, a group of primitive Greenskin brutes on war pigs approached, each towering and muscular, standing nearly two and a half meters tall, making ordinary adults look like mere shrimps in comparison.
The war pigs beneath them appeared significantly smaller, looking somewhat comical, but no one dared to mock these muscular orcs.
Through the dust kicked up by the pighooves, a green bipedal dragon soared above, regarded as a top predator in these lands, capable of snatching a war horse and carrying it off to feast upon. However, its massive form was vastly overshadowed by its rider.
A Greenskin orc over four meters tall descended from the bipedal dragon, flying over Arcanius like a small green hill. The aura it emitted was so powerful that even Arcanius felt a twinge of fear, his legs slightly weakening.
He was the initiator of this green tide, the biggest and strongest Greenskin in the entire orc army, known as the Beast Warboss.
The Beast leaped down from the bipedal dragon, the height equivalent to ten floors. When his feet hit the ground, there was a loud thud, causing the ground to tremble, a cloud of yellow dust spreading out around him, enveloping the Beast’s colossal form.
Arcanius shielded his eyes and, through the slits, could see the dark figure approaching him.
“A bunch of snot-greens running up front?” The Beast walked toward Arcanius, leaving behind a small pit that stamped goblin corpses, “What’s your name? Tell me.”
“Arcani… Columbus!” Arcanius quickly corrected himself, “I’m a shaman capable of summoning big plush statues.”
“Good! You’re very green!” the Beast Warboss exclaimed loudly, his deep voice shaking the little Arcanius, “The greener we are, the more we want to fight! But I think you… speak like a shrimp.”
Arcanius’s heart raced. It was said that the Beast Warboss wasn’t as foolish as he appeared. After all, if Greenskins manage to survive battles, they grow bigger; this large Greenskin had no idea how many fights he had faced to become so massive and strong, his body covered in scars of deep wounds. A seasoned warrior, how could he be so foolish?
Arcanius couldn’t think of a reason to explain, so he said, “I’m a Greenskin!”
“Good! That’s more like it!”
The Beast Warboss turned away, Arcanius relaxed, even a bit incredulous that he’d gotten past it this easily. He even fantasized that the Beast Warboss was feigning calmness and, the moment he dropped his guard, this cunning orc would suddenly turn around and swing his massive axe at him.
But no, he simply set down his massive axe and raised both hands, prepared to give a speech. He stood before Arcanius’s boulder, taller than Arcanius, capturing the gaze of all the Greenskins.
Arcanius was curious: how would the Beast Warboss, or a big Greenskin, give a speech? Does he merely seem like a wild brute on the surface, but is actually as smart as the Emperor of the Empire?
“We Greenskins are the strongest! We will crush the Imperial shrimps!” the Beast Warboss shouted, “Waaaagh!”
All the Greenskins became excited, waving their weapons enthusiastically, with some orc boys even tossing goblins into the air out of excitement.
“Waaaagh!”
“Waaaaaaaagh!”
A wave of sound surged against Arcanius’s chest, filling his eardrums, causing his chest to thrum, making him feel dizzy.
At that moment, he realized he had been projecting human logic onto the Greenskins. Unlike humans, who enjoy eloquent discourses, stirring speeches, and relatable gestures, all you need to do is be big and strong and take them to war, and they will happily join you. A speech requires nothing more than Waaaagh.
This simple word, Waaagh, can convey the Greenskins’ excitement and desire for battle, and it’s incredibly infectious; the nearby Greenskins, upon hearing it, began to chant Waaaagh themselves.
The sound of Waaagh spread further back, soon engulfing the entire swath of Greenskins, creating a mighty Waaagh tsunami that surged toward the nearby Obsidian Pass. The dark cliffs on either side trembled, a piece of obsidian breaking off and crashing into the boiling lava below.
Arcanius covered his buzzing head with his hands, and in the air, he saw this Waaagh tsunami formed of green energy, coalescing into a wave.
He recalled legends he had sometimes heard, that each Greenskin possesses Waaagh energy, and Greenskin spells utilize this Waaagh energy.
But beyond that, he couldn’t remember more.
In his mind, there was only one sound, and that was Waaaaaagh, Waaaagh so powerfully shaking his head that it felt like it would explode.
Arcanius fell to his knees on the stone, looking up at the sea of Waaaagh energy above him, vaguely seeing two mountaintall Greenskin orcs.
Gork was Gork, the Greenskin god!
Arcanius trembled all over, never expecting that this fake shaman could actually see the deity of the Greenskins.
When all Greenskins believe you are a shaman, does it matter whether you are real or fake?
An impulse surged over him, and Arcanius wanted to smash a few human heads—no, shrimps’ heads—he wanted to fight, to engage in a fierce battle.
When he regained his composure, he was surprised to find it silent all around him.
Many Greenskins beneath the large stone were staring at him.
Arcanius then realized that at some point, he too had opened his mouth, Waaaagh-ing and dancing about as if he were a madman, indistinguishable from an ordinary goblin shaman.
He stopped, in a daze, and said to the Beast Warboss, “I saw Gork.”
The Beast Warboss snorted in amusement, as shamans are always so mystical.
Arcanius thought that as a shaman, he should bring in some good omens, raising his hands and shouting, “Gork, bless me, just like thousands of years ago! A big Greenskin!”
As he cried out crazily, a semi-transparent green Greenskin appeared in the air, eliciting gasps from the surrounding Greenskins.
“And there’s a guy called Sigmar holding a big hammer!”
A human wielding a golden hammer, equally green, appeared opposite the Greenskins.
“Greenskin boss! Take down the hammer-wielding shrimp!”
In the air, a Greenskin axe took down the hammer-wielding shrimp.
“This is the history of us Greenskins!” Arcanius shouted, “History will repeat itself!”
The Greenskins cheered enthusiastically, erupting in another round of mighty Waaagh.
Arcanius was beyond happy, jumping around in place.
The Beast Warboss remarked, “I remember that it was that hammer-wielding shrimp, Sigmar, who took down us, wasn’t it?”
“Is that so?”
The Beast Warboss waved his hand, saying, “Forget it, everyone likes it, who cares about history. You did well, and I’ll reward you generously.”
He isn’t entirely stupid either.
An impulse struck Arcanius, and he blurted out, “Actually, I’m not a Greenskin, I’m fake. My name is Arcanius.”
“I think you are a Greenskin.” The Beast Warboss sized Arcanius up, then turned and walked away, muttering to himself, “Crazy little shaman.”
Arcanius laughed heartily, dancing amid the sounds of Waaagh.
Does it matter if I’m fake? Being a Greenskin is really fun.
Why not be a Greenskin?
